


bad habits

by sunphroggy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Phil, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Sick TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sickfic, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Vomiting, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 14:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunphroggy/pseuds/sunphroggy
Summary: Tommy has a bad habit of hiding the fact he's sick from his family, this time is no differentOr; Tommy is sick but tries to hide it and fails causing his family to take care of him
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbut Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 9
Kudos: 774





	bad habits

**Author's Note:**

> TW!! VOMITING AND SICKNESS  
> PLEASE STAY SAFE <3

Tommy, despite his hatred to admit it, is weak. Physically weak that is. Shocking, I know. Who would've thought that a gangly, lanky sixteen year old who skips meals and sleep frequently in favour of playing videos and working would be weak? Although he can take care of himself--he could certainly hold himself in a fight and he wasn't too awful at sports, in fact, he was actually pretty good at most--It's his immune system that let him down.

TommyInnit is highly susceptible to illness and it pisses him off. If he stayed out in the rain for too long, he'd surely wake up the next morning with a blocked nose. If a flu was going round at school, Tommy would be the one to instantly catch it. That's not to mention the awful stomach bugs he'd get at least once every month. 

There are perks to being ill of course. Wilbur and Techno sit with him in bed and cheer him up. Wilbur plays his guitar while Techno makes chicken soup for them all. And Phil, the saint he is, gathers all the blankets in the house and throws them on the sofa, and then the four of them will just pile under them and watch shitty reality TV all day. 

Don't get him wrong his family takes amazing care of him when he gets sick (which is often), but they also worry about him. A lot actually. And even though he loves what his family do for him, he hates the way Wilbur and Techno are forced to take care of him while Phil is at work (because yes, Tommy _can_ hear them complain about it) and the way Phil devotes all his free time to nurse him back to help. Because he doesn't deserve all that attention. He's just a dumb kid with a shitty immune system! His family have better things to do than look after him. 

But worst of all, he hates the pity in their eyes everytime they look at him. He hates their tone of voice, comforting him while he vomits his guts up. Because it makes him feel weak. It makes him feel like his own family thinks he's weak. And he fucking dispises that. 

So when Tommy woke up sweating buckets, head pounding with no energy to move, he knew it was going to be a shit day. And when he felt acid rise up his throat forcing him to rush to the bathroom, he knew he wasn't gonna tell anyone. Because he wasn't weak, he could look after himself. He was a big man. Big Man Innit, that's what they called him. He didn't need help.

It was still early; probably around 6am. Phil would be getting up for work soon, so would the twins. Meaning Tommy had limited time to clean up the bathroom.

Firstly, he brushed his teeth to get rid of the vomit aftertaste in his mouth--it didn't really work, just tasted like minty vomit now--and ignored the fact his legs were shaking violently, trying to hold up his own weight. And second he opened the window to clear the room of the smell. Going a step further he started to spray any type of aftershave or deodorant he could get his hands on.

By the time he was done and struggling to get changed without completely collapsing, the whole house was awake. The smell of bacon coming from the kitchen let him know that breakfast was ready and if he wasn't downstairs soon, Phil would begin to worry. So he slowly made his way down the stairs--which was honestly a struggle, he was genuinely surprised he made it down without falling--and into the kitchen where he was met with his family sitting at the table. 

"Mornin' Toms." Phil smiled at him. Tommy could only manage a small "hey" in response as he knew full well his voice would give him away. After sitting in his normal seat across from Techno, his dad put a plate in front of him.

Oh. Right. He had to eat.

Even just the sight of the food in front of him made Tommy's stomach churn in a way where he wholeheartedly believed he would throw up again. But he didn't, because he was fine- he was fine. He could eat breakfast because that was normal and this was just a normal day.

He was uncharacteristically quiet at breakfast. Picking up a fork was so much more effort than it should've been. Trying to eat was too. Instead of eating, the sic- ahem, the ' _perfectly well_ ' boy opted for just moving his food around the plate in hopes his family was too invested in their own conversations to notice. They weren't.

"You feeling OK Tommy?" Wilbur was the first to ask but Techno soon piped in, saying in his monotone voice, "Yeah, you're being strangely tolerable this morning."

Tommy nodded, a smile on his face while he forced himself to take a bite of a strip of bacon, "Yup! Feeling good. Great even." his voice was betraying him.

At this point, Phil was staring at him. Tommy could see the suspicion on his face and hated himself for it. Curse his inability to lie! 

He coughed in an attempt to clear his throat and get rid of his raspy voice. "Guys, cmon, I'm fine."

"You sound like you smoke a pack a day, mate." Phil finally said.

Tommy pulls up all the energy he has to make his voice sound normal. "Maybe that's because I do. You know me, Phil, I do so many drugs. Drugs and smoking Phil. Smoking drugs! And i-"

"Alright, he's OK." Techno cuts in and Wilbur nods, laughing. Phil doesn't look convinced.

And although he knows he'll regret it, Tommy eats his breakfast to further push the point that he's fine. And it seems to work. That is, until they have to go to school. 

The three brothers are just about to get into the car. Techno and Wilbur engrossed in their own conversation--something about a teacher he thinks--on their way to the car while Tommy was desperately trying to ignore his headache when Phil pulled him aside. 

"Tommy, you look really pale. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" His dad places a hand on his shoulder, worry prominent in his voice. 

Tommy nodded immediately, moving out of his grip incase Phil tried to take his temperature--that would certainly give him away. "I spend most of my day hunched over a PC, phil. Did you really expect me to not look pale?" 

The small laugh that Phil makes takes the worry off his face. And Tommy would be relieved if it weren't for the fucking rave that was going on in his head right now. Then he and Phil walked out to the car to join his brothers. 

-

The journey to school is a quiet one. What was usually a light hearted journey filled with the youngest of the family babbling about anything and everything was replaced with silence. What with Techno reading in the front seat, Wilbur gazing out the window, Phil focused on driving and the usual main source of conversation currently fighting to keep his eyes open. 

Tommy pretends not to notice that his dad kept glancing back at him through the mirror. 

When they pull up to school, Tommy is the first to get out of the car; mumbling a quick 'see ya' to Phil before leaving. He could feel Techno and Wilbur staring at him as he practically ran--well, using the term 'run' loosely there. More like 'he stumbled and tried not to trip over his own feet'--to find Tubbo. 

Tubbo told him he was being an idiot. 

"I don't understand why you just tell them you're sick?" Tubbo had told him. The brunette had taken one look at his friend and knew instantly that he was ill. 

That's something Tommy always hated about Tubbo, he always fucking knew when something was wrong. He'd call it 'his third eye' and Tommy would mock him relentlessly for it. 

"Because," Tommy sighed, "i'm not sick." and as if the irony of it was so necessary to the universe, he then coughed violently. 

Tubbo raised his eyebrows in a way that said 'you're a dumb bastard'. "Oh yeah, you sound so well there."

"Oh piss off." Tommy retorted.

"Tommy you're pale as fuck, you can barely stand up for more than five minutes and you threw up. I just don't understand why you don't just tell your family that you're sick?"

"Because they'll get all worried and-"

Tubbo cut him off, "And take care of you."

"I can take care of myself." the blonde protested, "Besides, I don't want their pity."

Tubbo, being the caring bastard that he is, puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him, "It's not pity Toms, they care about you."

"Yeah but _they don't have to_. I can take care of myself." Tommy insists. The brunette sighs defeatedly, knowing there's no point in trying to convince his friend to tell his family, and begins walking to their next class. 

(Tommy doesn't see the way Tubbo takes out his phone and sends a quick message to his brothers.) 

-

School is shit, this Tommy knows. School is even shitter when you're sick, Tommy has now found out. 

The pounding in his head had not ceased. If anything it got _worse_. Unbearable pain surged in his head every five seconds. At one point Tommy's vision went black for a moment and he went tumbling into a group of people in the hallway (Tubbo used this event to further push his point that Tommy should just suck up his pride and admit he's sick. Needless to say, Tommy refused.) 

Breakfast came back to bite him in the ass as well, as Tommy currently found himself gripping at the sides of a toilet until his knuckles turned white, chunk filled vomit spilling out of his mouth, nausea pouring over him like an avalanche. Gagging in an attempt to breathe, Tommy wiped his mouth. He's so tired, too tired to move. He could just pass out here on the bathroom floor, no problem, it's not like anyone would come looking for him.

"Tommy? You in here?"

Nevermind. 

Tommy coughs, clearing his throat, "Yeah. I'm here Tubbo."

"Are you alright?" 

A wave of guilt passes through him when he hears the worry in his friend's voice. "Peachy."

Once again, his voice is betraying him. Still hoarse from spewing his guts up. 

"Tommy…" Tubbo begins like he's gonna go on another speech about how he should tell his family but doesn't, "I've got Physics now. I'll talk to you later alright?" 

"Yeah, see you later Tubso."

The door opens, closes shut, and Tommy rests his head against the stall wall. 

-

The rest of the day is, impossibly, even shittier. 

Firstly, Tommy looks and feels like a zombie. His brain has given up on him completely and he goes through the motions of the day on autopilot. Secondly, he feels like he's going to pass out every second. And thirdly, his stupid fucking English teacher decided to give his class a five page essay on the symbolism of The Great Gatsby… due for tomorrow. 

Fan- _fucking_ -tastic. 

The hallway is too loud when Tommy's walking out. The loud chatter of students around him does nothing good for his headache. When he reaches the school gates, Tommy doesn't register the sight of Tubbo talking to Wilbur and Techno, all three of them looking concerned. 

Wilbur is the first to notice his arrival, a soft smile forms on his face as he waves. Tommy musters up any energy he has left to wave back, still wanting to keep up his ' _I'm definitely ok_ ' act even though it was relatively pointless. 

"Hey." Wilbur greets when he walks up to the group. Tommy nods in response, smiling slightly. He can see Tubbo shoot him a worried look but he ignores it. Techno offers to hold Tommy's bag, making a joke (that's not really a joke) that the youngest looks like he's about to collapse but Tommy, out of spite, refuses and marches onwards towards their home without even saying goodbye to Tubbo. 

It's today where Tommy wishes Phil didn't have to work late most of all. He barely has the effort to stand, nevermind walk home. Behind him, Tommy can hear his brothers whisper to each other but he can't quite make out the words. Not that he cares, he's too focused on putting one foot in front of the other. 

The walk home is excruciatingly long. On a normal day, when Tommy doesn't feel like he's on the verge of death, it would usually take the brothers about twenty minutes to get back but today it seemed like hours before they arrived on the front step. 

Immediately after Techno opened the door Tommy shot up the stairs like a bullet. Bad idea, by the way, as about half way his legs decided to give up on him causing him to trip and stumble. 

"Tommy?" Wilbur calls out after hearing the fall, "Are you alright?"

Tommy says, "I'm fine." and then mumbles, "Don't worry about it," before picking himself up and rushes to his room. 

Fuck sake, Tommy hates being sick. 

But at least he's home now, at least he can crawl in bed and sleep until this all goes away. 

And then he remembers the English essay he has to write. 

Shit. 

-

About two hours later, Tommy only has three words written. The Great Gatsby. Which is a start at least. 

But his head is still screaming at him and his stomach is still churning and his eyes are too heavy and he can get a good grip on the pen and it's all just-

Frustration takes over and Tommy throws his pen across the room, ripping up the filepage he's been scribbling on for the past two hours. 

He can't _think_. That's the problem. His thoughts feel like they're swimming around in his head and he can't catch them. He just wants to sleep. That's it. Just crawl into bed and finally fucking rest. 

Or better yet, go down stairs and collapse into his brother's arms. And they'll all sit on the couch together watching shitty reality TV and it'll be _nice_ and Tommy won't feel so fucking tired anymore. 

But he can't do that, he has to write this fucking essay. Not to mention the other heaps of classwork he's pushed to the side, leaving himself until the last minute to get it done. Yknow, like a fucking idiot. 

Everythings just _too much too much too much-_

There's a knock on his door. 

"Tommy?" It's Techno. 

"What do you want bitch?" he mumbles and the door is pushed open. 

"Dinners ready. Didn't you hear me calling you?" 

"Clearly not."

Techno cautiously watches his younger brother stand up from his desk. Tommy grips onto the desk in an attempt to steady his shaking legs. 

"Do you need some help?" 

"Fuck off." Tommy answers harshly. Truth is, yes he does need help. Does he want it? Fuck no. He doesn't want Techno's pity. 

Although he really should've accepted it because the moment he took a step towards the door, his legs gave way and his vision blurred over. He expected to hit the ground and get an even worse headache but nothing came. Instead he fell into someone's--presumably Techno's--chest, arms wrapped around him instantly. Tommy couldn't and didn't want to keep his eyes open. He accepted his fate, the last thing he heard being his brother calling for his twin before he lost consciousness. 

-

_From Tubbo, 10:35am;_  
_Hey Wilbr_  
_Tommys sick but hes to stubbrn to say anythjng_

When Wilbur received that text from Tubbo he sighed. He and Techno had suspected something was wrong with their brother, but they just wished he'd say something to them instead of trying to hide it. 

It should've been obvious. Wilbur noticed the way Tommy was sweating like crazy and how he pushed his food around on the plate instead of eating, but he ignored it; trusting that if something truly was wrong, Tommy would tell him. 

He should have trusted his gut. 

"Tommy's sick." the brunette announced to his twin. The two of them were standing by Techno's locker, preparing to go to the next class. 

"Of course he is," came Techno's reply, "Didn't you see him this morning? The kid looked like a corpse."

Wilbur chewed at the inside of his cheek, anxiousness for his baby brother building in his chest, "He shouldn't be in school. I'm gonna go find him."

"And do what? He won't let you help him."

This was true. You see, Tommy was difficult when it came to accepting help. The blonde couldn't seem to differentiate care and help from pity. It's especially frustrating in cases like these. 

So Wilbur asked Tubbo to keep an eye on Tommy for him, just until the end of the day. And then the twins would take it from there. 

At the end of the school day, Wilbur and Techno met up with the younger while waiting for Tommy. Tubbo informed them that he found Tommy throwing up in the bathrooms. Minutes later, Tommy showed up and the sight was not pretty. 

He was paler than he was this morning. And sweatier too, the boys matted blonde hair stuck to his forehead. He seemed to be lost in a daze when he arrived, only snapping out of it to wave back at his older brother. 

Wilbur and Techno shared a look. 

"We need to tell Phil," Wilbur whispered to Techno while Tommy walked three steps in front of them. 

Techno nodded, "Agreed. This is the worst I've seen him in a while."

"He's gonna deny it."

"Of course he is, it's Tommy."

Before they could even mention it, Tommy ran up the stairs. Wilburs heart stopped when he heard a loud _bang_. 

"Tommy?" he called out worriedly, walking towards the stairs, "Are you alright?"

He heard a small mumble and before he could reach his younger brother, Tommy had vanished into his room. 

They immediately told Phil once he stepped in the house, who told them that he had his suspicions but wanted Tommy to come to him. It was clear that he wasn't going to but they didn't say anything. 

And that was the end of it until dinner. 

When Tommy didn't answer Techno's calls for him to come down, Wilbur thought that he fell asleep. Techno went up to check on him while Wilbur and Phil set the table. Seconds later, when Techno was shouting for their dad, the two of them shot up the stairs like a firecracker only to find the pinkette holding an unconscious Tommy in his arms. 

Which brings them to now; Techno and Wilbur standing worriedly over their brother's bed, Phil sat beside Tommy, stroking his tangled hair out of his face while he slept. He looks so _small_. It's unusual to see the usually lively boy looking this little and vulnerable. 

"He looks awful." Techno mutters, his usual monotone voice now underlined with anxiety. Wilbur nods, "I thought he was over the whole 'denying needing help' thing."

"Give him time," Phil says, never taking his eyes off the sleeping boy wrapped up in blankets and tucked under the duvet. He kissed the youngests forehead before ushering his other sons out of the room to give the boy time to rest. 

-

When Tommy finally comes too, he's disoriented. He doesn't know how he got in bed, his head is muggy from sleep, and a thick fog clouds every thought he has but one sticks out. 

He has an essay to write. 

Tommy struggles to get out of bed. His lack of energy combined with the fact that he's somehow been tucked tightly into the bed only adds to this struggle. In the process of climbing out of bed, Tommy knocked over a bottle of water he didn't know was there. 

After almost falling face first onto the floor, the boy shuffles slowly to his desk (which is a mess. Pens scattered all over the place, crumple pieces of paper, his school books discarded on the floor) and he resumes where he left off. 

He soon remembers that 'where he left off' was literally nowhere. 

Curse his fucking English teacher and her stupid impossible to write essays. 

It takes far more effort that it should to lift a pen. It takes even more to drag it across the page and write words. Christ why is this so hard? 

"Tommy?" a voice startles Tommy. He turns his head towards the door and sees Wilbur standing there. "What are you doing out of bed."

"Essay." Tommy motions to the sheet of paper in front of him, "It's due tomorrow."

Wilbur says, "You're in no condition to write an essay." to which Tommy replies, "What's that supposed to mean bitch?" 

The brunette sighs. Tommy's always been difficult when he's sick, refusing to admit it until he's almost hospital bound. Thankfully, Wilbur is used to this and has ways to take care of his baby brother. 

"It means you look so tired, Toms." Wilbur's voice dips soft and low, only curving up at the end of his sentence, like he's talking to a toddler. "I think you should go back to bed. Don't you?" 

Tommy shakes his head, "Can't. I've got to write this fucking essay."

"Oh," Wilbur begins, walking over to his brother and placing a hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry about that now. Cmon, I'll sit with you for a while."

Tommy knows he should stay and write this essay but Wilbur's presence is so inviting and warm and Tommy just can't deny it.

(Love and care, TommyInnit's one weakness) 

So he let's Wilbur pull him gently over to his bed, shivering as he crawls under the blankets, the fabric still warm and soft. 

"There you go," Wilbur's soft voice coos, "Isn't that better? Do you want me to stay with you Toms?" 

Tommy's too tired to respond so he just tugs at whatever (he's assuming Wilbur's sweater) he's grabbed on to. He feels his brother pull him closer to his chest, burying his face in his sweater. He makes a small noise before falling asleep again. 

-

Wilbur is still with him when he wakes up again. The elder still has one arm wrapped around him and the other detangle Tommy's hair calmingly. 

"Wilby…?" he asks quietly. Wilbur smiles down at him. 

"Hey bud."

Tommy tries to pull himself out of his brother's arms but fails miserably. "You didn't have to stay with me."

"I wanted to," Wilbur says, "How're you feeling?" 

"Hungry," he admits. 

"I bet you are." Wilbur pulls away, Tommy whines slightly from the lack of contact. "Phil made soup for you."

Wilbur helps Tommy out of bed and holds his hand while they walk down the stairs into the kitchen, where Phil and Techno greet them. 

"Tommy, hello." Phil grins warmly glad to see his youngest looking not all that better but better than before. He places a hand on Tommy's forehead, frowning slightly to see he's still burning up. "How're you feeling mate?" 

Wilbur answers for him, "He's hungry."

Their father nods. As Tommy sits down at the table, taking the seat beside Techno (who has been watching him like a hawk, terrified incase he faints again), Phil sets a bowl of hot soup in front of him. Tommy eyes the bowl, remembering what happened last time he ate (i.e vomiting his guts out in a bathroom stall.) Phil gives him a look that says 'you don't have to eat it' but Tommy's stomach is literally screaming at him so he picks up a spoon and carefully digs in. He burns his mouth a bit but doesn't say anything about it. 

When he's eaten all that he can, Tommy feels his dad ruffle his hair. "Good job mate." he says proudly, and Tommy doesn't really understand why he's proud of him, he barely ate half, but he basks in the praise anyway. 

After they finish eating, Techno and Wilbur drag Tommy over to the living room. Tommy smiles at the sight he sees. 

The sofa is loaded with every blanket and pillow in the house, it looks like a mini fort. Up is playing on the TV, the _Married Life_ theme rings in his head. 

His brothers sit at either side of the sofa, pulling the youngest in the middle and moving closer so that they're practically squishing him. Tommy rests his head on Techno's shoulder while the pink haired teen wraps an arm around him. 

They all settle down to watch up. All three of them tear up after Ellie dies, Phil joins them on the armchair when Carl reveals the balloons. And then, when Carl and Russell find Doug, Tommy feels something rise in his throat.

Quickly slapping his hand over his mouth to stop the bile getting out (he wouldn't recommend doing this, it tastes like shit) Tommy pulls harshly at Wilbur's sweater to catch his attention. 

It does, and Wilbur swiftly untangles himself from the sofa, running to grab the bin from the kitchen. When he returns, the blonde boy grips onto it for dear life, retching up a stream of vomit. 

Phil has taken Wilbur's spot next to him and is currently rubbing calming circles on his back. The taste of vomit surprisingly doesn't leave his mouth the second Tommy lifts his head from the bin. Techno hands him a glass of water which he's very thankful for. 

Phil then sends him up for a shower to freshen himself up, promising that he'll feel a bit better afterwards, and Tommy does. 

After the shower, Tommy does feel better albeit not that much but it's something. He slips into more comfortable clothes and wanders downstairs to find that…no one's there. 

He checks the kitchen, the hall, Phil's room and eventually the twins' room where he finds Techno hunched over his computer presumably playing minecraft. 

"Oh hey," his brother greets when he finally notices Tommy standing at the door. 

Tommy asks, "Where is everyone?" 

"Just went to the shop to get you some medicine." he replies, not looking up from his screen. 

"I don't need medicine." the younger protests, to which Techno raises an eyebrow. 

"You literally just threw up in our trash can."

…

Yeah that's gonna be a little hard to play off. 

Techno pulls over Wilbur's desk chair so that it sits beside his own, patting the seat for Tommy to sit down. He does. 

Techno clicks into a skywars server and Tommy watches his older brother carefully play the game. He cheers and laughs whenever Techno gets a kill, occasionally making comments and chanting ' _Technoblade never dies!_ ' together when he wins. 

Eventually, Tommy feels his eyes grow heavy but fights to stay awake. Techno notices this and tells him, "You can go to sleep y'know, don't stay awake on my account."

Tommy scoffs. "You're not that important," he says jokingly, "besides, I'm not tired." and like the universe wants to spite him, he yawns, "Not one bit."

The elder rolls his eyes, "Sure you're not. I can't even play you a lullaby on guitar like Wilbur does when he wants you to sleep."

"He does not do that."

"Oh yes he does. All Wil's gotta do is talk in that voice and you'll do whatever he says. He's got you wrapped 'round his finger." 

"That's bul-" he yawns again, "Bullshit."

"Yeah OK Toms," Techno chuckles. "Seriously though, you can go to sleep. I don't mind."

Tommy shakes his head and Techno goes back to playing bedwars. Then, about two and a half games later, Techno feels Tommy's head fall on his shoulder. Smiling down at the sleeping boy by his side, Techno pulls a blanket from the nearest bed and wraps it around the two of them before going back to the game. 

Techno feels his own eyes grow heavy and seconds later he falls asleep, resting his own head atop his brothers. 

-

Phil and Wilbur stand in the doorway of Wil and Techno's room, smiling at the sight in front of them. 

Techno and Tommy, both asleep. Somehow Techno's arms have wrapped protectively around his younger brother. 

They both 'aw' at that. Wilbur pulls out his phone and snaps a photo (for blackmail purposes) before Phil pulls him down stairs to let the brothers rest.


End file.
